


to me you are a work of art

by Anonymous



Category: The Smiths
Genre: Fluff, M/M, just another johnny and moz moment, tour bus life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:00:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27609338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: 'but then I look at you and know that somewhere there's someone who can soothe me' - morrissey
Relationships: Johnny Marr/Morrissey
Comments: 14
Kudos: 19
Collections: Anonymous





	to me you are a work of art

*

Johnny awoke with a start, consciousness seeping over him like a wave.

He blinked a few times in the darkness, trying to place where he was.

The low hum of the engine, the swaying movement…

The tour bus.

He rubbed his eyes and reached out blindly, trying to locate his watch.

He eventually laid hands on it and squinted in the darkness, trying to read the face.

Sometime around 2am.

Yawning, he shifted over to face the opposite bunk.

Morrissey’s.

Which was empty.

Johnny sat up then and looked around, suddenly on high alert.

The bus was all quiet.

He could see Mike fast asleep to his left, the blanket he was using half trailing on the floor.

Johnny slid out his bunk carefully, pulling on a thick jumper over his t-shirt.

It was November and ice was lying on the ground outside.

He slowly made his way down the bus, trying to listen for any noise over the hum of the engine.

The far end of the bus held a large seated section where the band spent most of their time between gigs, drinking and smoking and playing music.

A single lamp was glowing in the corner and Johnny paused in the doorway.

There he was.

“Moz?” he whispered.

Morrissey glanced around immediately.

He was sat with a blanket over him, staring out into the darkness of the road as the bus ambled along.

He was dressed in familiar looking jumper, the sleeves pulled down over his hands.

Johnny had a feeling it was his.

“Sorry. Didn’t want to scare you.” Johnny said.

He walked over and paused. “What you doing Mozza?”

“Oh. Couldn’t sleep.” Morrissey replied vaguely,

He looked tired, hair messy and glosses a bit lopsided.

He suddenly looked just like the same Steven that Johnny met back on the Kings Road a year previously.

“You ok, love? Not ill are you?” Johnny sat down on the sofa next to him.

“No.” Morrissey said. “I’m sorry if I disturbed you.”

“You didn’t. Just wanted to check you’re ok.” Johnny said softly.

He studied the singer in the dim light, his sharp cheekbones even more prominent.

“I shall be fine.” Morrissey answered easily.

Johnny nodded but still shifted closer, sliding a hand up the other mans back and gently massaging his neck for a moment.

Morrissey exhaled then, melting back into the touch, eyes fluttering.

“You’re tense.” Johnny murmured. “And cold. Come here.”

He shifted back on the sofa and lifted his arm.

Morrissey turned and crawled into his arms without delay, dragging the blanket with him.

Johnny tucked it round them both securely, wrapping his arms round Morrissey’s skinny frame.

“There we go.” he said. “That ok, yeah?”

“Yes.” Morrissey said softly.

He slipped his arm round Johnny’s waist and sighed, pressing his face into the guitarists neck.

Johnny turned and pressed a kiss to his head.

“Tell me, Moz.” he whispered.

Morrissey shifted slightly and didn’t speak for a long minute.

“I’m afraid I don’t know.. sometimes I just go off into my own head for a while. It’s not pretty. I’m just rather melancholy.”

Johnny nodded.

“Ok. Is this helping?”

“Yes. This is the only thing that helps.”

“Why didn’t you wake me then?”

“I… don’t want to burden you, Johnny.” Morrissey muttered.

Johnny sighed deeply. “Moz-“

“I know, I know.” Morrissey said quickly. “I’m sorry. I shall next time.”

“You better.” Johnny whispered.

He nuzzled his face against the singers wild quiff of hair, kissing his temple gently. “I don’t know what goes on in that head of your sometimes, but I wish you would believe in what I tell you.”

“I do, Johnny.” Morrissey looked up at him. “I do.”

“So whats with this crisis in confidence?”

“Its just a rather depressing state of being. I simply call it my life.”

“What can I do to… fix it?” Johnny said. “You want me to tickle you, that it?”

Morrissey couldn’t help it, his mouth twitched and he smiled. “Absolutely not.”

“Because I bloody will, if it means I get to see you smile.” Johnny warned, smiling himself. “And don’t think I’m not a man of my word, ok, Mozza?”

“Ok, ok. Threat noted.” Morrissey huffed out a laugh.

He tightened his grip on Johnny and sighed. “You are rather warm. I’m sponging all your body heat, I’m afraid.”

“Thats ok, love.” Johnny slid his hand under the singers jumper and began to stroke his skin gently with the back of his thumb.

They sat in silence for a while, the bus rumbling on.

It was too dark to even try and fathom where they were.

“What you thinking about?” Johnny whispered.

Morrissey considered the question for a long minute. “Reminiscing when you were showing me how to play the guitar earlier.”

Johnny smiled.

Earlier he’d handed Moz his beloved Rickenbacker and showed him some more complex chords.

“Johnny come on, I am a mere singer!” he’d complained at first, secretly enjoying the attention.

Johnny had laughed and moved behind him, covering his hands and manipulating them to the correct position. “There, now strum slow, slower... can you hear it?”

Morrissey had nodded and relaxed back into the embrace and they’d stayed that way for a while, playing odd songs and singing funny lyrics to each other.

“You were pretty good, Moz.” Johnny commented. “For a novice. You after my job?”

“Well, only if you take up mine.” Morrissey shot back.

He reached up then and began to idly play with a thin gold chain Johnny wore around his neck, twisting it lightly.

“Prancing round with flowers in ya back pocket?”

“Its a tough job being the main man, Johnny.” Morrissey said, biting his lip to try and stop smiling.

“I know mate, being the lead guitarist I know all about it.” Johnny said airily.

“Shocking rhetoric. I’m telling Andy tomorrow.”

Johnny laughed, moving his hands then and gently digging them into the singers ribs. “Oh yeah?”

“No, no Johnny! Stop immediately!” Morrissey laughed, squirming away. “Stop, you are such a _CHILD_.”

Johnny smirked, relenting his attack a moment later. “Made you smile.”

Morrissey shook his head ruefully, cheeks now flushed.

“Horrible underhanded tactics.” he muttered. "How unchivalrous." 

Johnny laughed. “Come on, let's go bed. My bunk. We’ll talk for a little bit yeah?”

Morrissey nodded and they disentangled, standing up and stretching.

Wordlessly Johnny held out his hand and Morrissey took it, gripping tightly as Johnny led him back down the narrow bus to the sleeping area.

All was quiet and still.

Johnny slid into the small bunk, shifting back against the wall and lifted his arm.

Morrissey slid in beside him, turning so his back was against Johnny’s chest, sighing.

“Ok?” Johnny whispered. “Just relax. Don’t... over think.”

He slid an arm round the singer’s middle and threw one leg over Morrissey’s so they were pressed close.

“Thank you Johnny.” Morrissey breathed.

“What for?”

“Talking me out of my own head yet again. I’m aware I can be rather miserable when I’m like that.”

“Stop. You aren’t miserable.”

Morrissey smiled then and twisted his head back slightly. “Very kind of you to say so, albeit a lie.”

“Hmm. M’not lying. Stop that or I’ll tickle you again.” Johnny ordered.

He pressed his face into the back of the other mans neck.

“Wish you’d woken me earlier though.”

“I’m afraid I was frightful company. I still am.”

“I get to decide that, not you.”

“I can barely stand to be with myself, so I couldn’t blame you for not wanting to be.”

“Well tough, because I want to be.” Johnny said softly.

Morrissey nodded slowly. “Heaven knows why, Johnny.”

“Well its up to me.” Johnny murmured. “I told you. Stop or I’ll tickle you.”

Morrissey huffed out a quiet laugh then.

“Such _terrible_ threats from such a sweet face.”

Johnny laughed softly.

“Shut up Moz. I’m a hardcore rock 'n' roller, unlike yourself.”

He softened the comment by kissing the singer on the temple. “Now, get some sleep. We’ve got a big gig tomorrow, yeah? Goodnight.”

“Should I stay-“

“Yes. Stay.” Johnny nodded, tightening his grip.

Morrissey nodded and relaxed back. “Goodnight, Johnny.”

He felt for Johnny’s hand that was resting on his hip bone and twined their fingers, gripping tight.

The last thing he recalled was the guitarist stroking his thumb back and forth across his knuckles and then he was asleep.

*

**Author's Note:**

> thank you again everyone who commented on my first fic... i was honestly blown away by the nice comments. hope this one is just as well received. and thanks again for any kudos or comments. :)


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